I was shading under our beautiful tree,
Frail brown branches with wilting green leaves,
Yellow flowers that radiated a sickening hue,
Its slender stem steadied by deep searching roots.
A chameleon crawled on a frail branch,
Brown skinned, steady, gazing,
The crackling branch startled the perched birds,
And the chameleon clutched the other frail branch.
A strong wind whistled through the leaves,
The green chameleon grasped a young leaf,
Frightened stiff at the sudden wave of misery,
A disguised pose at the mercy of death.
The dry leaves hardly cushioned its fall,
And the grey chameleon lay still in pain,
The hot famine days spared not the dying,
Nor the ants that devoured the rot.
EXPRESSION THROUGH WORDS. 